


His Measure of Worth

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-15
Updated: 2000-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A heartbreaking discovery brings Alex home.





	His Measure of Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

His Measure of Worth by phyre

Title: 'His Measure of Worth'  
Author: phyre  
Fandom: XF  
Pairing: M/K  
Spoilers: None  
Rating: R  
Summary: A heartbreaking discovery brings Alex home.  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. The characters used herein belong to Chris Carter and the good people over at 1013.  
Archive: The Basement, Slashville, All Things Rat, WWOMB, Ratfic Library. All others, please ask me first so I know where to visit.  
Author notes: Special thanks go out to Dr. Ruthless, Karen-Leigh, and Shael for handholding, constructive suggestions and beta work above and beyond the call of duty.

Feedback and constructive criticism gratefully accepted and  
acknowledged. 

* * *

'His Measure of Worth' by phyre  
  


Screams. All Mulder could hear were screams. Screams so loud, so painful, so frightening that he felt his blood chill at the sound, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find her, not until after the cries had tapered to a whisper and eventually turned to silence. It was then he stumbled over her body and watched her face morph into the images of all the other people he believed he had failed throughout his life; Reggie, Scully, his father, his mother, Alex ...

He awoke to the echo of his own scream with the next one dying in his throat. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he felt his fingers come away wet with tears. Closing his eyes to clear the haze from his head, he knew what had happened wasn't just another one of his nightmares; it was painfully real.

Less than 24 hours before, the dream he had carried since he was twelve years old, the one where he had finally been reunited with his sister, had been shattered. Samantha was dead and had been, apparently, for a very long time.

Scully had confirmed his sister's identity with her usual clinical efficiency. Only the tears that threatened to spill from her clear, blue eyes gave any indication of the emotion she had tried to hide while listing the cold, haunting facts; blunt trauma to the skull no doubt bringing instantaneous death, no definitive answer about sexual abuse, the date of death was hard to determine but forensic evidence suggested it was probably shortly after Samantha had been taken. Most likely the same night, in light of the body's location, she had added quietly.

Hugging him, the strong smell of disinfectant and soap clinging to her scrubs, she whispered her condolences in a small voice.

Skinner had been there as well, uncharacteristically gentle and bearing genuine offers of sympathy and comfort.

Mulder had listened to the information, asked the necessary questions and called his mother. After everything was said and done, he had excused himself, walked into the men's room and lost the entire contents of his stomach in the last toilet on the left.

It was Skinner who had found him sitting on the floor, his back against the cold, blue tiles, shivering in a sweat-soaked shirt and, the A.D. allowed in a hushed voice to Scully, staring at some distant point in space with frighteningly fixed, tearless eyes.

In the end, after she had given him a mild sedative and called the Gunmen to alert them, she guided him to her car, drove him home and managed to get him into some warm clothes. Grudgingly, she had abided by his wishes and left him alone to sleep on the couch, covered with a blanket, with the whispered promise of a phone call to come later in the evening ringing softly in his ear.

Now, listening to a light, steady breathing that wasn't his; smelling the scent of cologne he knew intimately but never wore, he realized he wasn't alone. Rolling to his side he groaned softly, opened his eyes and stared hard in an attempt to focus in the semi-darkness at the body seated in the over-stuffed chair.

The figure slowly uncrossed then re-crossed his legs, the soft leather of his jacket creaking quietly.

"Alex?" Mulder's voice cracked slightly.

"I'm here, baby," came the quiet reply from the shadows.

"She's gone."

"I know."

Letting out a long sigh, Mulder reached up and yanked the lamp chain. Squinting at his wristwatch in the sudden wash of harsh light, he turned his head back to the chair where Krycek was sitting, just as he had been for the past four hours.

"How long ..." he stopped to run his tongue over his lips then swallowed with some discomfort. "How long have you been here?"

"A little while."

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Alex. How long?" His tone more insistent now.

Half-hidden in the dim corner, Krycek smiled at the slight attempt of humor.

"Since 5 or so."

Mulder knew Scully had left close to 4. His quiet voice held no hint of anger when he asked in a tired voice, "How did you get in?"

"Up the fire escape and through the bedroom window. You really ought to talk to the super about getting that window lock fixed. *Anybody* could just walk in on you."

Ignoring the forced lilt in Krycek's voice, Mulder countered with, "You could have knocked."

A hint of a chuckle escaped unchecked. "I could have used my key, too, but what fun's that?"

Mulder's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you gave that back to me."

"I did."

Krycek waited for the inevitable.

"But ... ?"

"But, I kept the copy."

Giving a short snort of nearly soundless laughter, Mulder shook his head at the answer that was so typically Alex. Changing the subject, he asked, "So, why didn't you wake me?"

"You needed the sleep and, by the way, could probably use some more. Besides, I knew Miss Priss would drug you up. How are you feeling?" The question bore a hint of quiet sympathy.

Chalking up the earlier snide comment as jealousy rearing its ugly head, Mulder replied, "Good. Better than I did earlier."

"Don't lie, Mulder. You're lousy at it."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling sadly. "I just don't know what else to say."

Slowly, Krycek moved from the chair, working the kinks out of his back and legs as he walked. He knew he had no business being there. What type of comfort could he offer in the face of this kind of grief? He had no experience with death, not death like this, not something this personal. His own sister and brother were still alive and earning fat paychecks halfway across the country. His parents had lived long lives and died peaceful deaths. Now staring over at Mulder's pale, drawn face, he just knew he didn't want him to be alone, because he'd spent far too much time alone already.

Walking past the couch, he absently brushed his fingers through Mulder's hair and, as the silky strands slipped through his fingers, felt a pang of familiarity from the simple movement. Bittersweet memories of the many lazy mornings he lay with Mulder's head tucked under his chin, his fingers combing through the softness. Looking back down he saw the strands fall haphazardly over the high forehead, taking years off Mulder's face, giving him a vulnerable, lost look.

Reaching up, Mulder held Krycek's wrist and looked into his eyes. "Why don't I feel something, Alex? I should feel something other than ... "

Kneeling down, Krycek cupped Mulder's face with his hand. "Other than what, baby? Relief? Guilt?" He searched for an answer in the tired hazel eyes. "Isn't this the 'closure' so many shrinks talk about? Christ, Mulder, you've spent the better part of your life searching for a sister you thought you could find. You've been mourning for years. Now it's time to heal, and the only permission you need to do that is your own."

"She was so close, Alex, so close. She was there all of the time. I should have found her instead ..." His voice dropped off to an agonized whisper, "instead of some stranger."

Pulling him into his arms, Krycek held Mulder tightly for a moment before getting up to pace the floor. Stopping at the window he caught the reflection of the grieving man dropping his head in his hands.

"Why you?" He asked the image quietly. "Who chose you to pick up the slack? You were a twelve-year-old kid. You never had a fucking chance, Fox. *She* never had a fucking chance. She was probably gone before that night was over, and certainly before your father had finished taking it out on your skin. What? You didn't get enough beatings from him? You have to do it to yourself now?"

In the dusty glass he saw Mulder flinch and silently cursed himself for the callousness of his words. Watching the traffic below, he tamped down his anger. The last thing he wanted to cause was any more pain. Their history had been painful enough.

"Got your information pretty quick, didn't you, Alex?" The quiet whisper harbored no anger.

"They owed me." Krycek's voice was tight. "Look, this was probably a bad idea on my part, I should ... "

"Please, don't go." Mulder spoke so quietly his words were nearly lost under the sound of the clock in the hall chiming 9:30.

Their eyes caught and held, questioning, beseeching until the sharp ring of the telephone startled them.

Holding up one finger, Mulder reached for the phone while signaling to Krycek to wait.

"Hello ... hey, Scully. Yeah, I'm all right. I slept for a while." An edge crept into his voice. "I'm not hungry." Then more contritely, "Please, Scully, I'm fine. It's not necessary. I'm not alone." One long beat of silence followed as he looked at Krycek. "No ... Alex is here." A sardonic smile played over his lips. "Yes, I will. Look, I'll call you in the morning, okay? And Scully, thank you for everything you did. I really appreciate you taking care of the autopsy and all the crap that went with it. I know it was a pain in the ass." He smiled a sad smile. "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mulder hit the off button, set the phone on the table and breathed what could only be termed a sigh of relief.

Krycek smiled at the one-sided exchange. "Bet *that* piece of information went over well."

Rolling his head around to work out the knots in his neck, Mulder replied, "Yeah well ... I can't fault her for caring, can I?"

"No, no you can't and I guess I can't either. Someone needs to look after you ... " Krycek left the sentence hanging, not trusting the words he wanted to say.

"Now that we're not together? Is that what you were going to say?"

"Something along those lines. Look, this isn't about us, it's about *you*. I'm here because I couldn't stand the thought of you being alone." Quietly, he added, "And to be honest, I really couldn't stand the thought of her comforting you instead of me. Selfish, I know but ... "

"I'm glad you're here, Alex. I know it doesn't sound like it, but I am."

A surprised look softened Krycek's features. "Really? Because, I have to tell you, I wasn't sure how you'd handle it. We didn't part on the friendliest of terms."

"I don't have to pretend with you, Alex. I don't have to watch what I say or how I act. We've been through far too much together for me to do that now. We know each other too well. I know things ended badly but ... I'm really glad you're here," he finished quietly.

Krycek walked back to the couch, extended his hand and pulled Mulder up. Gently, he kissed the pale cheek. "Good, I was worried I'd end up doing more harm than anything else. Listen, I'll bet a shower would feel really good right now, why don't you go take one and I'll see what I can scare up in that kitchen of yours."

"Sounds like a plan."

Walking from the room, Mulder said over his shoulder, apologetically, "There's not much--"

"I know. I haven't forgotten."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Returning 20 minutes later with damp hair and clean-shaven, ruddy cheeks, Mulder looked just as tired as he had earlier, the dark circles under his eyes aging him.

"Better?" Krycek asked even though he already knew the answer.

"Cleaner, anyway." Mulder sniffed the air. "Something smells good; it can't be from my kitchen."

Laughing quietly, Krycek said, "Tuna fish sandwich and chicken noodle soup. Pickin's are pretty slim in there. You might consider groceries in the near future."

Mulder shook his head and smiled. "Just as soon as I find paper to write a list."

Krycek answered with a grin and for a brief moment the easy banter felt right.

Dinner was quietly uneventful. Mulder picked at his food and Krycek let him, figuring when the man was finally hungry, he would eat.

Sitting on the worn couch, drinking his coffee, he watched Mulder move about the apartment with no real purpose.

"You want to talk?"

Shrugging, Mulder answered, "What's to talk about, Alex? I've lost it all. Time to start over, try to rebuild myself somehow."

Startled by the statement, Krycek asked, "Rebuild? What do you mean?"

"Aren't we all defined by what we do and why? When that changes, don't we?" Mulder's pace quickened. "The pain of losing her, the helplessness of the situation, what I saw and thought I saw all determined my course in life. So the subsequent choices I made are now null and void. Who am I if not my pain and quest? Don't you see? I've lost *me*. I'm not the same person I was yesterday when I got up." In a hushed, agonized voice he implored, "How am I going to do it, Alex? How am I going to start over?"

Krycek was silent for a long time, puzzling out how to say what he wanted without sounding like he was preaching. Looking up he saw nothing but pain and confusion in Mulder's eyes and realized his ex-lover was drowning, and he had absolutely no idea how to reach him.

Finally, his voice gentle, he said, "I don't believe your pain or quest defines you. I think that's defined by the person you are under all that armor you wear. I firmly believe that you'd be the same man in a different place if Samantha had never been taken."

"But--"

"No, wait," he admonished, "let me finish. You still would have had the same intelligence. You still would have had a shallow mother and an abusive father. You'd just have found a different reason to get out of that house. You may not have worked for the Bureau but you'd have found a job where you had the opportunity to do some good because I don't think you would have known any other way to go. A lot of minor things would have been different and two major ones; Samantha would probably still be alive and I probably wouldn't have met you."

He stopped for a moment, then continued, his voice quieter, even more impassioned than it had been at first. "And I'll tell you, if I had the ability to change it all, to give you back your childhood, your sister, your life, everything before it all took the course it did, I'd do it. I'd give you up, because watching you torture yourself the way you have these past few years ... I couldn't ask you to go through that just so you'd be around for me to love."

Shaking his head, Mulder stared off into space, seemingly lost in thought. "It's all different. I'm different. I'm not the same person you loved, Alex."

"Can you tell me how it's different ... other than Samantha?"

Shaking his head, Mulder looked away. "I don't know. It just is. I'm not the same person, I can't be."

"Well," Krycek said with a smile, "I think you are. Because the person I *love*, and I never stopped loving you, not even when you wanted me to; that basic, good man under all of the hurt grew with you, starting from when you were young, and he lived deep inside, shaped, yes, but not defined by circumstances. Baby, you've been wearing that shield of pain for so long, it feels natural to you, it's almost as if you'd be lost without it, naked somehow."

Krycek waited for some kind of response and after hearing none, he went on. "Fox, I know the discovery of Samantha's body hurts, but I think it's a chance for release. It's time to let go. This is just my take, but I wouldn't look at it that you failed in your search, I'd say that your search has ended, certainly not as you would have hoped but it has ended. Samantha has been found."

Krycek watched Mulder walk the floor again and held his tongue. He didn't want to bully or make light such a devastating event, he just wanted to make the man see that not everything was lost, not everything had changed and life would go.

"And there are still answers out there waiting to be found, Mulder."

Mulder stopped mid-circuit and sat on the couch, dropping his head against the soft cotton knit shirt that covered Krycek's shoulder. In a small voice he said, "It's not that easy, Alex. Nothing's that easy."

Draping his good arm around Mulder's shoulders, Krycek pulled him closer. "I know, baby. Not much ever is." Tilting Mulder's head up, he looked in the tired, hazel eyes. "But there are still a few constants left in your life. Scully, Skinner, the Gunmen ... me, if you want me. We're still going to be here for you and that's not going to change. You have to believe that."

Sitting up Mulder looked back into Krycek's eyes, his own reflecting a quiet epiphany.

"You'll stay? After it's over? You won't leave? This wasn't--"

Krycek's face went hard, his eyes glittering under the dark fringe of lashes.

"If you even think the word 'pity', I'm out of here."

"Sorry."

"Jesus, Mulder, how can you even think that?"

Ignoring the obvious question, Mulder asked, "Why, then? I mean I was such a bastard."

Krycek thought about the question. It was the same one he had been asking himself since he had gotten the phone call from Frohicke. He loved Mulder, more than he should, more than was healthy, maybe more than Mulder had loved him in return. And they fought. Didn't all couples? There didn't seem to be much difference, and yet there was because by the end, it all came down to compatibility. Mulder thought they weren't compatible. One final heated argument complete with emotions running high, and they were finished.

20/20 hindsight told him that it wasn't incompatibility that tore them apart; it was Mulder retreating behind his wall at the first sign of anything that resembled commitment and handling it with his usual good nature.

But could he just walk back into the relationship as if nothing had happened? There was no way to ignore the desperation he heard in Mulder's voice and while he didn't think this was the right time to discuss their relationship, he saw it as an opportunity to ground Mulder's feelings in the here and now, keep him centered and focused. He knew that their problems wouldn't be solved right away, too much had happened, too many angry words had been spoken but they could take the first tentative steps at some type of repair.

"Yeah, you were a bastard, all right, but I'm here because I love you," he finally answered. "And don't look so damned surprised. I told you I never stopped loving you, why is that so hard for you to believe?" He waited for an answer he knew wouldn't come.

"I knew how this was going to tear you up, what you would be thinking and you've pretty much proved me right. I just couldn't stand the thought of you hurting alone. And you would have been alone. After a while you would have thrown Scully out and sat here in the dark all night. I couldn't let that happen."

Smiling a sad smile, Mulder said, "You're right. I would have."

Krycek chewed the inside of his lip before continuing in a quiet, almost somber, voice. "I didn't want to get into this, but you started it by asking if I would stay. So what happens now? We didn't split because of lack of love, although I know love came hard to us at times."

"I never stopped ..." Mulder's voice trailed off to a whisper, his fingers worrying the frayed hem of his sweatshirt. "Is that what you thought?" Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "Of course it is, and why wouldn't you? I said some pretty terrible things."

Turning to face Krycek head on he said, "If I could take them back ... it wasn't because I didn't love you, it was because..." his voice caught, "it's hard to explain, Alex, it really is, but you have to believe me when I say it wasn't because I didn't love you. Loving you was the easiest thing I ever did. It was so easy it frightened me. And I..."

"Chose to push me away?"

Mulder looked away, and then asked, "Do you think we can get it back on track?"

"I think we can try."

Gently, he cupped Mulder's chin. "It's so wrong to want to kiss you right now, but ..." He trailed off with a shrug and a grin.

For the first time that night, Mulder smiled a genuine smile. "Why is it wrong, Alex?"

"Because I didn't come here with the intent of fixing us, I came with the intent of helping you."

"And you think that fixing us isn't helping me?"

"I think that fixing us shouldn't be at the top of the discussion list right now."

"Alex, fixing us is probably the only thing we should discuss tonight. Finding out that Samantha has been ... " He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead'. "Gone for so long but right there under my nose ... that one is going to take a long time to deal with, that and everything else that goes along with it. And a kiss doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

Cautiously, Krycek ran his finger along Mulder's jawbone to the base of his neck and loved the familiar feeling it gave him. His fingers shaped themselves around the curve of the skull as he pulled Mulder in close.

Their mouths found one another and parted under the slight pressure.

Krycek drank in the silky, satiny texture of Mulder's mouth, running his tongue over and around, catching soft wetness and hard edges. It had been so long since anything had come close to feeling so good or so right to him, not since the last time they had kissed, all those months ago.

Mulder broke first and laid his head on Krycek's chest.

"It feels like home. It feels safe. I've missed this so much. I want this to work, Alex. I really do."

"Shh. We don't need to solve it all tonight, baby. Why don't you try to rest for a little while? You've got an awful day ahead of you in a few hours." He held Mulder close against his chest, dragging an old blanket down to cover them both. "Just relax. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

In that one word, Krycek heard Mulder's hidden fears. Fears of someone else he loved leaving, whether by circumstance, death or choice. He'd lost so many people he loved.

"Yeah, baby. I promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They lay together on the long couch under a soft, woolen blanket, with Krycek thumbing away the silent tears that slid down Mulder's face while he slept.

He heard a quiet knock and found the clock on the desk that read 7:20. Knowing Scully had a key, and would use it if no one answered, he pulled Mulder closer to his chest and waited.

As the key slid into the lock, he closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer that they could cut through the bitterness of past circumstances they never had control over, and do it quietly and painlessly.

Scully's heels tapped gently on the hardwood floor as she walked around the corner and stopped.

"He's sleeping, Dana."

Stepping into his line of sight, their eyes met and Scully's lips tightened.

Softly, he asked, "Let's try to do this one for him, okay? He's had a tough enough time without us going for each other's throats."

She looked away for a moment, turned and sat stiffly on the easy chair. Finally, looking back at the scene before her, she asked, "How is he?"

"Lost. Unsure of his next step. He thinks he's lost his purpose, not so much in life, but in how to live it. He believed that Samantha made him more human. He's struggling with what he believes is a loss of that sense of self. He needs time Dana, time to piece it all together. Roll it over in his brain a bit. He has a ton of issues and knows that this isn't all going to be solved today, tomorrow, next week or even next month."

"And what about you, Alex? Where do you fit in here?"

Her icy tone wasn't lost on him.

After drawing a deep breath, he replied, "I fit wherever he wants me to fit. We talked about it for a while, about our relationship and where we want to go from here. We're better, at least better than we were. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

She picked a loose thread off the sleeve of her suit jacket and looked away.

"You know," Krycek continued, "it'd be a helluva lot easier on him if we acknowledged the importance of each other in his life, not just you and me but the Gunmen and even Skinner. He needs us, all of us. He's afraid of losing more people he cares about and I'm afraid he'll wall himself off even more to prevent feeling any more pain."

Lifting her left eyebrow slightly, Scully spoke in a low voice. "We've always been here, Krycek, it was you who left him."

Anger flared up from deep in his eyes.

"Don't bother trying to bait me, Scully. I won't play that game with you. I only did what he asked." Sighing quietly, he went on, "We were both at fault, although I'll accept the lion's share of blame on it. I was going to wait him out. Probably still would be if this hadn't happened."

"Funny, isn't it, Alex?"

"What's funny?"

"How fate just steps in and takes over."

"I guess, although I never put much stock in fate."

"Probably a good attitude to have."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, do you really think Frohike called you out of the goodness of his heart?"

Krycek stared at her, trying to figure out how she had managed to answer a question he hadn't even thought to ask.

"Why?"

Shrugging, Scully walked to the desk and idly picked up a pen, turning it over and over in her small hands.

"It's been a tough eight months for him, Krycek. His job performance has been slipping. He's been miserable, insufferable, and downright impossible to talk to, and work with. There were only just so many times Skinner could look the other way before he had to act like a boss; letters in his file, censure, the works. My guess is you already knew these facts but you chose to let him stay in that depression. Why? If you loved him, how could you do that to him?"

Turning back to look at him, her eyes narrowed to angry slits as she waited for an answer.

Finally, he couldn't stand the glare any longer.

"What do you want me to say, Dana? Yes, I knew. No, I didn't come back. Yes, I should have. Yes, I love him. Yes, I was wrong. I was so wrong, but let me say this in my shaky defense, I don't think he would have taken me back, no matter how much he wanted or needed me, if he even did at all then. He's an adult, Dana, and he has to accept some responsibility, too. This wasn't *all* me. I think his pride wouldn't let him admit he had made a mistake--"

In a voice steeped with hate she asked, "And what about *your* pride?"

Krycek looked away, knowing there was no way he could take her piercing gaze when he bared his soul to her.

"My pride was pretty bruised and I believed, although not for long, that he was right, that we were total opposites, completely incompatible in everything but bed."

Quietly, he continued. "I know I shouldn't have left, I know I should have figured out that all he was doing was insulating himself against pain because that's all he's ever done. I should have known so many things and I didn't, but you know what I do know?" He continued without waiting for a response. "I know that we're not all perfect, Dana. *None* of us. I can accept that. What about you?"

Turning back, Scully looked at him through angry eyes.

"If you repeat any of this, I'll call you a liar and come after that other arm. I don't like you and I don't trust you, but he loves you and that has to be good enough for me. As much as I hate saying this, it seems he's much better off with you than without you but if you hurt him ..."

She let the unspoken threat hang in the air. Then, gathering her things to leave, she spoke quietly.

"Take care of him, Alex. Keep him on an even keel. You know how he gets when he's around his mother. Will you be going up to the Vineyard with him?"

"I'd like to, but I think I need to leave that up to him. At least he'll know I'm here when he gets home."

"Make sure you are."

She left as quietly as she came in.

Listening to the rhythmic tap of her heels as they faded down the hall, he gently kissed the top of Mulder's head and pulled him closer to his chest. Relishing the whisper soft intake and exhale of breath as it caressed his neck, he closed his eyes and wondered if it was wrong to feel contentment in light of Samantha's death. He decided it wasn't. She had already been gone a very long time and the warmth and heartbeat felt far too good for him to start worrying about the suitability of it now.

Drifting off to sleep, he gave thanks to a little girl he felt he knew but had never met for bringing her brother back into his arms and silently promised them both he'd never let go again.

~end~

 


End file.
